


How to Ruin the Perfect Proposal (and Still Get it Right)

by MarchnoGirl, OTPshipper98



Series: The Fluffiest of Drarry Floofs [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Couch Cuddles, Crack, Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley Friendship, Established Relationship, F/F, Fainting, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter's Birthday, Harry's Birthday, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Blood, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 23:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarchnoGirl/pseuds/MarchnoGirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/pseuds/OTPshipper98
Summary: When Draco's plans for Harry's birthday end up showered in (quite literal) blood, Draco has to find a quick solution. Featuring spaghetti, hot-air balloons and a proposal ring.





	How to Ruin the Perfect Proposal (and Still Get it Right)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a silly thing Ale and I wrote for Harry's birthday! Beta'd by the lovely RuArcher 😊💕

“Draco, are you sure Harry will like this?”

Draco looked around his studio at the fireworks stacked on the desk, the wild amount of flowers dispersed all over the room, the two tickets for a Portkey to Paris, the spellbook open on ‘_Create Your Own Hot-Air Balloon_’, and sighed.

“Of course he will!” His voice cracked a bit in the end. He glared at Ron and shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

Ron raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I know Harry better than you and he doesn’t like big gestures for his birthday.”

_ Excuse me?! _Stupid freckled Gryffindork, how dare he! Ready to kill, Draco replied, “I’m his boyfriend! For six years this year! I—” 

“Guys,” Hermione’s voice interrupted his rant, “stop arguing about who knows Harry better. Ron, stop ruining Draco’s plans; they’re perfect.”

Before Draco could mock Ron for being scolded, Hermione went on. “Draco, stop falling for Ron’s mockery. Dear Godric, it’s always the same with you two.” 

“She’s right, Draco. It’ll be splendid, okay? Now, hurry up or you’ll miss your Portkey,” Pansy said from her seat next to Hermione. She smiled and kissed her cheek softly, whispering in her ear, “We could go to Paris too, sometime.” 

Ron mimicked gagging and rolled his eyes. “You’re all so disgustingly sappy. Why Paris, then? It’s just a city like—”

“Out! All of you!” Draco croaked, exasperated. “I need to get ready and you’re all distracting me. Harry’s almost home. Shoo!” 

————

Finally alone, Draco fixed everything: the fireworks shrunk and in the pocket of his suit; the tickets tight in his hands; the flowers all positioned in the living room, red roses and sunflowers — Harry’s favourites. They’d be the first thing Harry saw once he crossed the threshold of their house, together with Draco in Harry’s favourite soft green jumper and their suitcases in front of him, a banner floating above them, ‘Joyeux Anniversaire, mon amour.’

Waiting for Harry to arrive, Draco started to replay the entire scene in his mind: Harry’s eyes, shining with emotion, Draco telling him he’d organised a surprise weekend for the two of them, together in Paris.

And then, the day travelling by the hot air balloon Draco now knew how to conjure, the picnic at high altitude, with Harry’s favourite wine. Landing on the top of the _ Tour Eiffel_, Draco would declare his endless love for Harry, his speech ready in his pocket. Kneeling, giving him the ring, the sunset would surely enhance Harry’s breathtaking smile, and the answer he hoped to hear from him. ‘Yes.’ Maybe a tear or two.

Yes, everything would be perfect. What could go wrong?

————

Apparently, everything. Everything could go wrong.

Hearing Harry’s key in the lock, Draco straightened up, taking deep breaths, willing his heart to go at a slower pace, trying to control the wave of nausea that hit his stomach. 

Tickets in hand, heart furiously beating in his chest, Draco looked as Harry entered their living room. And all of Draco’s blood drained from his face in sheer horror.

Harry was completely covered in blood, from head to toe. 

“Um, Draco, love? This isn’t mine.” But before Harry’s words could reach his ears, Draco saw stars in front of his eyes and passed out, vaguely aware of Harry hurrying towards him and catching him in his arms.

“Draco…” Harry’s worried voice slowly became clearer until Draco opened his eyes to see Harry crouched next to him, softly caressing his hair. 

What a way to start the proposal weekend, really. And — fuck! The Portkey! Draco suddenly straightened up, taking in he was on their couch, and cast a quick _ Tempus_. 8 pm. They'd missed their Portkey.

“Fuck,” Draco said. The world was spinning around him, and Harry’s hand was suddenly on his back, holding him upright.

“Not so fast, you idiot,” Harry said, rubbing his back in slow circles. “Thanks for the banner, by the way.” He smirked. “Very thoughtful.”

“No! No, no—” Draco tried to stand up, but Harry held him by the waist, locking his fingers at the height of Draco’s belly and pulling him back down—right onto his lap. “Harry, the Portkey! And—and Paris, and—” Harry had cleaned himself up, he realised. Probably with a spell, since his clothes still felt weird to the touch. “What the heck happened?”

“Explosive charm set in a park. We were called to take the civilians out before the explosion occurred, but…”

“Fucking hell.” Draco felt dizzy all over again. He turned in Harry’s arms, bringing his hands to Harry’s face; to Harry’s chest, to his head, saying, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are your ears hurt? Are you—”

“I’m all right, love,” Harry said, and suddenly he was hugging Draco closer, burying his face in the crook of Draco’s neck. “Glad to be home.”

Draco let himself be held, forgetting about his ruined plans for a moment. If anything had happened to Harry…fuck. He wanted to say something, something about how much he hated that stupid job of Harry’s, but he refrained. They’d had that conversation one too many times already.

“So I take it I ruined your birthday surprise for me?” Harry mumbled a moment later, burying his nose in Draco’s hair on retreat.

“You bloody well did.” Frustration quickly pooling in his chest again, Draco groaned, taking his turn in the safety of Harry’s neck. “Dammit. I need to call the hotel to cancel the reservation before it’s too late.”

“Hotel? You romantic prat, where were you taking me?”

“_Paris_,” Draco said with another groan. “I was going to take you to the Ritz. And—and I was taking you on a hot-air balloon, and—I have it in my pocket, you know! The hot- air balloon! And there were gonna be fireworks, and love confessions, and it was going to be perfect, and—”

“A hot-air _ balloon_? You have a—”

“_Yes_!” Draco moaned, sitting up again. “It was going to be perfect, Harry!”

A smile was pulling at his boyfriend’s lips. Draco scowled. 

“Well…I guess we could still go?” Harry said, his smile widening despite his efforts. “D’you reckon the balloon could make it to Paris?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. Honestly, that suggestion didn’t deserve a reply. 

“What!” Harry said with a surprised laugh. “I’ve travelled by dragon, it can’t possibly get more dangerous than that!”

“I’ll tell you,” Draco said slowly, “what would happen if we were to do the imbecility that you just suggested. What would happen is we would _ die_. In the ocean. Or worse, we’d end up stranded on a desert island filled with cannibals—”

“—there are no cannibals in the English Channel—”

“—that we’d alert when we lit up the fireworks to try and attract boats to us—”

“—there are _ fireworks _too?”

“Or worse! The fireworks would set themselves off in my pocket while we were in the air and we’d be dead before the balloon could even hit the water! Two explosions! On your _ birthday_! That’s what would happen, Harry,” Draco concluded. “Two explosions on your birthday.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “A very sensible conclusion. I have one of my own.” At Draco’s raised eyebrows, he said, smirk back in place, “You have a great imagination, love.”

Draco snorted, the sound turning into a whine. He roved his hands up from where they were resting on Harry’s chest, buried them in Harry’s hair, and pressed their foreheads together, sighing through his nose in frustration. “Do you at least like what I’d planned? Please lie to me even if you don’t. I don’t think I can take a defeat against the Weasel right now.”

“Pfft. When have I _ ever _ not loved your presents?” Harry said. “Don’t listen to Ron. I knew what I was signing up for when I started dating you, and I haven’t regretted it one day. Well, except for that time with the—”

“Don’t you dare bring up the spaghetti—”

“There was just _ so much _ of it!” Harry laughed. “Seriously, though. I love you.” He pulled back, pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead. Another one to Draco’s nose. To his cheek. “Thank you. And sorry I ruined it.” A kiss to Draco’s other cheek. To the tip of his chin—Harry’s hands holding Draco’s head to angle it. “Do you know what I’d really like for my birthday?”

Draco, quickly melting in Harry’s arms, could only muster a, “Hmm?”

“You, me,” Harry said, nuzzling Draco’s jaw, the spot behind his ear, “takeaway pizza, my hands roaming under this beautiful jumper of yours…” Draco rolled his eyes at him, but Harry just smiled and finished, “and to open your gift. I know you’ve bought me something physical. You always do.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. The _ ring_. It was still in his pocket.

Draco jumped from the couch, muttering frantically, “Maybe I can still do it in time! Oh Merlin, yes, the ring is—”

“The _ what_?”

In a second, Harry was standing right next to Draco, his green eyes as wide as saucers. Fuck.

“Did I… say it out loud?” Why the fuck had Draco planned this, he knew with Harry _ nothing _ went as planned, just like with the spaghetti—

“Draco… what’s happening?” Harry’s voice was only a whisper and Draco mentally cursed himself. It was time to react.

“Ok! I have this! You order the pizza and I’ll go to the bathroom—”

No wait, it was Harry’s birthday, he shouldn’t be the one providing food.

Draco shook his head, the room spinning around him again. “No! I order the pizza and you go to the bathroom—”

“But I don’t need to go to the bathroom…”

“I lit the candles, yes, it can work.”

He turned to search for the phone when Harry grabbed his elbow and cupped his cheek. “Draco, love, take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on. You’re giving yourself a heart attack.”

Draco looked into the eyes of the love of his life, knowing right now, right here, he wanted to stay with him for the rest of his life. “The ring…” he murmured and without letting Harry reply, took it out of his pocket.

He opened the box, kneeled before Harry, gently disentangling from his embrace. “Harry…”

“Oh fuck… Draco, yes!”

“Let me finish!”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“Wait…”

“Okay, okay, sorry, you go.”

Draco took a deep breath and snorted at the eagerness in Harry’s eyes. 

“Harry, I know this isn’t Paris. There isn’t the perfect sunset and the _ Tour Eiffel_, or the fireworks or… nothing of my perfect, perfect plan…”

“Erm, Draco it doesn—”

“Right! It doesn’t matter because it’s you and me and what’s more important than that? It’s you and me, together and this is exactly what I’d want for us for the rest of our lives. Me, you, together, forever.”

Draco stopped, feeling his chest tighten, his voice faltering away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears. 

When he opened them again, Harry had kneeled in front of him, his eyes filled with tears, a big smile plastered on his face.

“Yes.” He said once more, voice shaking, breaking into a stream of sobs, his lips trembling. Draco wanted to capture them in a kiss, but…

“Wait. Just… let me say it, please?”

“I love you.”

“Harry…”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Will you marry me?”

Harry grabbed a red rose from the coffee table next to them and swirled it in the air between them. 

“The flowers are perfect.” His voice was still shaking and Draco struggled to understand him amongst his sobbing. “Everything with you is perfect. _ You _ are perfect.” He inhaled slowly. “Yes, _ mon amour. _ Yes, yes, yes, yes, and forever, yes.” 

Merlin, Harry had said yes. They were going to marry, for real. Draco felt dizzy and launched himself on Harry, kissing him, hugging him, keeping him close, making sure he was real. 

They laughed in their kiss, and kissed again, and again, and— 

“Your French pronunciation is horrible,” Draco breathed between one kiss and the other.

“Shut up!” Harry lightly shoved him back, standing up.

“I still want the pizza, you know.”

“You always want to eat. Oh no.” Draco groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Ron will forever rub this one in my face.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are super appreciated!


End file.
